Music and Movement:One Hundred Years of the Theremin.

"I think we’d better let him in. I’ve heard he’s got a theremin and I’ve seen him walk through the park a lot and I bet he listens to Arc a lot" - Look Dad, No Tunes - Half Man Half Biscuit.

The theremin wasn't always an instrument that could be employed by rock musicians to lazily suggest cool, experimentation, and edge. It didn't begin as the indoor shades or leather jacket of the musical instrument scene or something Jon Spencer plays towards the end of his set to remind him, in his own words, that it's only five or ten minutes until he can get a drink. It's not always been a thing that Half Man Half Biscuit could lampoon as easily as Runrig's bandanas, bubble perms, and the 1985 gothic rock album Clan of Xymox.

To be fair to both the theremin and to Half Man Half Biscuit, they're not actually taking the piss out of the instrument but of lumpen indie strummers who have elevated it to a position of cool in lieu of ideas and to distract from their own paucity of imagination. Last night's Theremin Centenary Concert with Lydia Kavina at Nicholas Hawksmoor's St Alfege Church in Greenwich certainly could not be accused of that!

With music ranging from the tuneful to the gently abrasive and a programme of works that took in Camille Saint-Saens, Percy Grainger, movie themes, and specially composed pieces performed to an impressively large and respectfully quiet audience in Hawksmoor's early 18c baroque church (think high wooden pulpit, trompe l'oeils, grandiose chandeliers, and old wooden staircases) it was a birthday party that took in blissful moments of music, jarring noises, and, perhaps surprisingly, a few laughs along the way.

There was even a complimentary glass of white wine at the close should you want one (remarkably, we didn't). Promoted by the University of Greenwich (who, last year, put on the excellent Me, Claudius and smallhaus in the same venue), the concert featured Lydia Kavina (who, as a child, actually studied under Leon Theremin, the instrument's Russian inventor) and six other theremin players. Lydia and four others scattered around the chancel and transept and the final two, who I didn't even spot until about ten minutes in, stealthily positioned towards the rear of each aisle.

The performance began by the players working their way through the audience intoning a partial history of the instrument and how it works in various languages. It wasn't really meant as a history lesson, more a scene setter, but it threw me at first to have someone talking Russian loudly in my ear from behind when I really wasn't expecting it.

In a good way. The first actual piece was a world premiere of Andrew Knight-Hill's Chase. Introduced by Knight-Hill, sporting a very impressive tank-top I must add, it lived up to its title well. Full of urgency when required but with space to breathe. As with all works performed it showed how the theremin could drift between notes and pitches either effortlessly and easily or violently and noisily.

Anna Triosi's Hyperdrone #2 and Kavina's own Mixing Radio and Rythmicon Ensemble were playful experiments with the sonic possibilities provided by the instrument and veered from snatches of Leo Delibes' Flower Duet from Lakme to ambient hums and alien bleeps. There was even a section in which all seven players pretended to throw an invisible ball of sound around the church. There were times I wanted to close my eyes and be completely enveloped by, and at one with, the sound but the visual element proved, for the most part, too much of a pull.

Notwithstanding the church, and some of the shenanigans of the theremin orchestra themselves, a large screen at the front showed the unorthodox theremin notation and it was fascinating to watch it scroll by. A colourful instruction to the players too, and one that worked best for the evening's set closer. Nadine Schutz's three part Sirenscapes was also a world premiere and it played to hushed reverence which gave way, on its conclusion, to ripples of applause.

With its mix of harmony and dissonance, and not to mention occasional forays into extraterrestrial whirring sounds and beeps (at one point almost augmented by a police vehicle outside), it was a huge highlight of the evening and, for my money, the piece where the orchestra really came together as one in their best light.

That's not to knock anything else performed on the night. Percy Grainger's Free Music 1 & 2 stood in dramatic counterpoint to Saint-Saens more tonal The Swan and the film music of Howard Shore (Tim Burton's Ed Wood), Danny Elfman (the same director's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory), and Bernard Hermann (Robert Wise's The Day The Earth Stood Still) were all charming. If the visuals (showing opening and dramatic sequences from said films) started off as a distraction they soon became a pleasant accompaniment to the music.

Special mention, too, must go to Mishael Holdbrook's Theremin Breaks. I loved the fact that I was sitting in a grand old Hawksmoor church (on a reasonably comfortable, thankfully cushioned, pew) listening to somebody rap about Maidstone, Lagos, and refusing to wear a poncho to the backing of a septet of avant-garde Russian instruments invented one hundred years ago.

Along with that rare addition of vocals there was a bit of piano and an ondes Martenot (which is always a welcome guest to any party) but, of course, theremins were the stars of the show and quite rightly so. It was their birthday party and they could cry out loud if they wanted to.

Which they certainly did, often completely delightfully. It was a lovely, civilised (adjectives that, like 'charming' and 'pleasant' can seem lazy and lukewarm, felt comfortable and correct here), and suitably low-key evening with great company, great food (pie'n'mash in Goddards beforehand with gooseberry crumble an optional dessert), and, most of all, great music. Thanks to Dan, Misa, and Laura for coming with me and special thanks to Misa for giving me the heads up about the event.

С Днем Рождения Термен.